Fractal Visions
by Trixx
Summary: Um… sex. That is all. Um… Use of handcuffs?


He's not sure what he expected when he started dating the Princess. A little payback, some minor groping, her virginity if things worked out in his favor for once; maybe none of the above. He sure as hell wasn't expecting a snarling, hissing Veronica to storm into his hotel suite, vile obscenities spilling from her pretty pink lips. Words like honor, trust, and responsibility twist around him until he's dizzy with the speed that the foul language falls from her mouth. 

Her mouth is on fire when it's listing his sins, but listening has never been one of his strengths. He's staring into her eyes, watching with fear and trepidation as he sees the blue ice forming, the coldness present in her stare as she stalks towards him. She's pressing him against the wall before he can breath, and she's muttering into his mouth about honor, trust, and responsibility, even as her tongue comes out to lick at his lips, her teeth biting harshly as he's frozen motionless by the aloofness in her eyes.

When she clutches at his shirt, tearing at the buttons and scattering them across the floor, he breaks from his stupor. He's (tearing) away, wanting nothing more than to go back, to fall into her arms, to welcome the burn of her words on his skin. He won't let her win. He won't let her take all of him and discard it without a thought or care. He won't give her what he also wants.

Logan's not quite sure how to handle this new Veronica, the cold empty girl. She's not the pink satin Princess she was when she dated Duncan the first time -- she's almost the hard girl he saw during the past year -- and she barely resembles the girl she tried to be when dating Duncan the second time. He's not sure how to take her, how to want her, and even less sure if he should. As she moves towards him once again, she seems a deadly, dangerous sort of woman.

Her coldness slips away beneath the liquid smoothness of her body. She's catlike grace and sex now, slinking towards him with a small smile curving on her lips. Her hips sway while her hands rest peacefully at her sides when she glides towards him. This is a Veronica to be afraid of.

Sliding her hands up his bare chest, her fingers barely skim his nipples as she moves to encircle his neck. Her hands link lightly behind his head as she whispers against his skin; bitter, pretty words she sighs into his flesh until he's about to burn alive as a result of them. Veronica exhales breathily as she tells him she knows him, she knows what he needs, knows what it is that makes him, breaks him, and tears him apart.

He's caving before he knows why, before he realizes he's giving in. He's in her hands, and she's not careful with him as her nails bite into his skin, pushing at him. Hands walk him backwards into the bedroom and pres him down onto the bed, her silken body follows and presses against his overheated skin.

Veronica makes him feel like he's been sentenced to hell, surrounded by ice cold flames intent on burning him alive. Their clothes are lost to the fire, melted away in seconds as she takes his hands. He's sure this is when she'll be his Veronica again. Fingers slide against his, push his hands above his head as she leans closer, brushing their lips together as her body moves over his. Her mouth steals his breath and robs him of his will to fight against her as she places the cuffs around his wrists. Then her hand slips up and around his throat, around his chin, and her nails scratch across his lips.

Slick with sweat as she moves against him, her hand tightens to press his head up and away from her. She licks at his throat slow and languidly, his groan vibrating beneath her lips as he struggles to turn towards her. Logan fights the fingers that dig into his flesh and the nails that scrape his skin raw as she presses harder, leaving little half moon marks on his face.

His eyes roll back as she bites at the tight tendon of his neck. Her body swallows him, slow and liquid as he tries to quicken the pace and thrust against her. Her knees squeeze his hips in warning, holding him down as she uses him. Devours him. Makes him hers with her slick sliding skin.

The moon filters through the window, painting her in silver and shadow. Her hand clenches convulsively on his face as her fingers inch around to press against his lips. She smashes them against his teeth, making his lip bleed as he fights harder for control. He fights to move her, to take her. Her eyes follow his struggles, drinking him in. She watches him arch beneath her, bucking, wanting to take the wheel; wanting to drive.

Whispers across his flesh raise goose-bumps as he struggles to listen. He strains to hear the words she's sketching across his skin. Words of loathing, desire, and love sink into him and bathe him in shades of envy. He knows what she wants. Knows what it will take to make her let him go- to beg. He'd have to beg, to let the words drip from his lips, incoherent with the need to finish this. He's content to wait for her to give in. He's sure he can outlast her. He's certain he can resist the words she's breathing into him now, the vitriolic acid she's burning into his skin.

His hips are moving of their own volition now, straining for more. He wants to give in, to let the words pour off his tongue as he tries to watch her. Logan feels the sharp relief of her nails clawing at him. The pain brings him back to himself for a moment as his head is forced further back, his eyes turning away from her as she glides on his cock. He's soaked with her, with the wetness that seeps from her body and coats his skin. He can smell her all around him, thick and heady in the air, driving him on, pushing him closer to the edge.

She wants to break him, to keep him at her mercy as long as she can. She has no need to end this, to take away his suffering. Veronica has long since orgasmed a dozen times while riding him. She exhibits panther-like grace and sensuality as she moves above him, the muscles in her arm tensed as she holds his head away. Her hand grasps him to keep him still, to allow her to fight for what she wants. She can feel herself unraveling around him. Her walls flutter as his moans bounce loudly back at her and she clenches deliberately, smiling perversely as his eyes cross and his breathing speeds up once more. She'll break him, no matter how long it takes.

She moves quickly once, twice, keeping only the swollen head of his cock inside her body as she squeezes him hard, her lips pressing down on his flattened mouth, her tongue gliding along his mouth as she whispers into his lips. She whispers that she's stronger than he is, that she always gets her man, that she always gets what she wants. She mutters against his mouth that he's already hers, but he's just too stubborn to admit it. She feels his arms tense as he tries to touch her. He's fighting against the cuffs that hold him securely against the headboard—the cuffs that hold him away from her. His tongue comes out to lick briefly at her lips and she's moving away again, back to his neck as she bites and feels his body react. It's then she smiles up into his face.

She knows she's won. Grinding slickly against him, she listens as the words tumble out of his mouth. Eyes alight with triumph as he begs her, needs her, his fingers clutching uselessly at nothing as he shakes the cuffs. He wants to touch her, wants to hold her, and wants to take her. His cock is twitching inside of her as he comes with a rush of breath and a hissing intake of air. Her hand clutches harder at his face as she bites again, harder, marking him, feeling him arch beneath her as she draws his orgasm out, feeling the shudders wracking his frame.

It's the low moaning words that have her straining above him, washing him in fluid and grace. She sighs longingly as he stops fighting her hand, stops fighting the slow slide of her body above him. He kisses the fingers pressed against his lips, touching the only part of her he can reach. Veronica's fingers slip into his mouth, distorting his words as she's crashing around him; she's liquid once more as she puddles against him.

He feels the need to make her angry. He wants the fire back in her eyes, burning him alive with its intensity. He sees nothing but ice chips when she finally lifts her head and smiles at him. He doesn't close his eyes as she moves towards him, her lips caressing the marks her fingernails left behind on his face, her tongue coming out to lick lazily at the wounds.

She's still whispering against his skin, painting him in shades of acid, as she whispers of honor, trust, responsibility, love, and need; bitter pretty words burned into his flesh. Logan finally closes his eyes at the frigid love he can see in her face.


End file.
